(Reblogged from getoutoftherecat)
I want them.

I want them.

(Reblogged from elle-gance)
thefingerfucker: All day every day.

thefingerfucker:

All day every day.

(Reblogged from dommer)
fujiidom: View high resolution

fujiidom:

(Reblogged from emilywerollalong)

JUST watched this last night and knew it would be on Tumblr today. So knew it.

(Reblogged from krystaaa)

Love love LOVE Real Estate.

dailyotter: Thanks, Kelsey! View high resolution

dailyotter:

Thanks, Kelsey!

(Reblogged from dailyotter)
tomoatmeal: Gom’s Baseball Report I hope that the Cardinals win tonight’s match.  You can bet that both teams want to win, which makes the whole program exciting.  There is no time limit in baseball.  It’s not like hockey, where you turn over a gigantic hourglass and play until the sand leaks through or the hourglass breaks from getting hit with shoes.  I’ve been to games before and I’ve met Fredbird.  I’ve dreamed about being a player myself and then later, I dreamed about a machine that shrinks you down to the size of a GI Joe.  You could sneak into the pitcher’s glove and hug the baseball.  Then, when the enemy player hits it really deep, you’re blowing hard against the ball to make it fall short.  And it does.  And they discover you and tell you that you’re a hero.  They have a parade and you drive your tiny car along and local people are like, “There’s that little doll-guy.  Let’s feed him some macadamia nuts!” *Gom Totemeal is a local sports reporter and he writes for so many publications that to list them here would be a waste of everyone’s time. REALLY REALLY GOOD TOM OATMEAL TODAY.

tomoatmeal:

Gom’s Baseball Report

I hope that the Cardinals win tonight’s match.  You can bet that both teams want to win, which makes the whole program exciting.  There is no time limit in baseball.  It’s not like hockey, where you turn over a gigantic hourglass and play until the sand leaks through or the hourglass breaks from getting hit with shoes.  I’ve been to games before and I’ve met Fredbird.  I’ve dreamed about being a player myself and then later, I dreamed about a machine that shrinks you down to the size of a GI Joe.  You could sneak into the pitcher’s glove and hug the baseball.  Then, when the enemy player hits it really deep, you’re blowing hard against the ball to make it fall short.  And it does.  And they discover you and tell you that you’re a hero.  They have a parade and you drive your tiny car along and local people are like, “There’s that little doll-guy.  Let’s feed him some macadamia nuts!”

*Gom Totemeal is a local sports reporter and he writes for so many publications that to list them here would be a waste of everyone’s time.

REALLY REALLY GOOD TOM OATMEAL TODAY.

(Reblogged from tomoatmeal)
tastefullyoffensive: I can relate to thisvia  All day every day.

tastefullyoffensive:

I can relate to this
via 

All day every day.

(Reblogged from tastefullyoffensive)
tomoatmeal: But the skin of an infant was no place for an autograph from a thick marker and the politician could only watch in horror as his signature dissolved into the baby’s face – infiltrating it like water into a sponge until the baby’s entire bald head was a dark shade of green. “Somebody do something!” a woman screamed. And luckily somebody did.   Without thinking twice, the rival politician tore off his jacket and wrapped it around the baby’s head.  He pressed lightly so as to soak up the green ink without mashing the baby’s soft, cartilage head.  When he pulled it away, everyone cheered.  The baby’s head was a pretty light shade of green that wasn’t perfect, but would probably improve after a couple of rinses. The politician took a bow and then handed the baby a caramel apple.  It was too big for the baby, but the good folks applauded anyways because maybe Dad could help him eat it after the baby had been given some time to lick at the outer coating. What we saw that day wasn’t magic, but it sure was something.  But to reiterate, it definitely wasn’t magic. THE END.

tomoatmeal:

But the skin of an infant was no place for an autograph from a thick marker and the politician could only watch in horror as his signature dissolved into the baby’s face – infiltrating it like water into a sponge until the baby’s entire bald head was a dark shade of green.

“Somebody do something!” a woman screamed.

And luckily somebody did. 

 Without thinking twice, the rival politician tore off his jacket and wrapped it around the baby’s head.  He pressed lightly so as to soak up the green ink without mashing the baby’s soft, cartilage head.  When he pulled it away, everyone cheered.  The baby’s head was a pretty light shade of green that wasn’t perfect, but would probably improve after a couple of rinses.

The politician took a bow and then handed the baby a caramel apple.  It was too big for the baby, but the good folks applauded anyways because maybe Dad could help him eat it after the baby had been given some time to lick at the outer coating.

What we saw that day wasn’t magic, but it sure was something.  But to reiterate, it definitely wasn’t magic.

THE END.

(Reblogged from tomoatmeal)